Buried
by Monsterprincess
Summary: England has a new serial killer on it's hands and it's up to Sherlock to stop him (if he can)
1. The Making of a Serial Killer

Hello! Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy my story and if you would like to, please leave a comment letting me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Sherlock. I only write to entertain (and to get the dang story ideas out of my head!)

Norman Snyder sadly watched as his wife's coffin was lowered into the ground. Even after he had sat with her day after day in the hospital, knowing that they were going to lose the fight, he was still in complete shock. The sickness had come on so fast, with no hope of a cure. Friends and family hugged Norman and gave their sorrowful wishes to him as they left the funeral. The misty rain of the day had picked up to a hard pour but still Norman stood there disbelieving the loss of his beloved wife.

Norman wasn't sure how he had gotten home. He awoke with damp clothes as he laid there in his bed. _Their_ bed he thought. Rolling over, he was surprised to what he had found next to him. The body of his dead wife, "asleep" on her side of the bed.

Three Months later:

Sherlock sat in his chair, fingers poised in front of his face. He was in his Mind Palace, which meant while he was physically in the room - mentally he was in a different place. He examined the scene; a young girl buried alive in a grave. She was the 4th woman found like this and yet there was no clue to who buried her there.

There was the clatter of tea cups as Mrs. Hudson placed the tray down. Behind her John Watson eyed the Consulting Detective. "Oh John, he's been sitting there since last night. I don't think he's moved at all." Mrs. Hudson said.

"Sherlock...Sherlock." John snapped his fingers as he tried to bring his best friend back to the reality of this room they were in. Sherlock stayed in the position he was in. Rolling his eyes, John sat down to read the newspaper.

"You know it is rude to snap your fingers." Sherlock said ten minutes later. John folded up his newspaper and threw it on the stand next to him. "Yeah, so is frighting Mrs. Hudson."

"Mrs. Hudson worries too much." Sherlock said as he stood up from his chair. He went into the kitchen to check on an experiment.

"Mycroft called me this morning." John said as he walked into the kitchen. He leaned up against the doorway, watching as Sherlock placed a few drops of chemical on to a slide.

"And what did my lovely brother have to say?" Sherlock asked as he looked down into his microscope. In a fit of fury, Sherlock took the slide out and threw it up against the wall.

John cleared his throat, "Well, he would like to know where you are at with the case?"

"No where John! I am no where with this case!" Sherlock yelled. "I've got four dead women, all found buried alive. There are no witnesses, no evidence left behind of the killer - nothing!"

"Come on. You are Sherlock "bloody" Holmes and are dealing with a serial killer. Last time I checked, serial killers don't leave much evidence behind. Just in the way they kill their victims. And the last time I checked, Sherlock Holmes didn't need any specific evidence to solve a crime."

"I can't John. I cannot solve these murders." Sherlock said, actually feeling defeated for the first time in his life. "There's noth..."

"There's been a 5th murder right here in London." DI Greg Lestrade breathlessly said as he stopped at the top of the stairs.

"John, my coat!" Sherlock said as he pushed himself away from the kitchen table.


	2. The Bodies

Thank you so much to GeorgyannWayson for reviewing on the first chapter! I made some grammar mistakes and she helped me correct them. I am pretty sure I have done better in the grammar dept. in ch. 2 but if I missed something, let me know. Thank you for reading! :o)

P.S. - **Buried** takes place close to a year after John & Mary's wedding (way past Moriarty). That's probably about the only kind of spoiler of the show you may find.

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Sherlock. Write for pure enjoyment.

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Sherlock heard a tap on his front door. He knew the source without even opening his eyes.

"Go away." Sherlock said. He had just lay down on his couch, 5 nicotine patches on his right arm and was bored out of his mind. But no amount of boredom could make him want to see his brother.

"Well brother mine, you never return my phone calls." Mycroft said as he walked in.

"And you never seem to get the hint. My answer is no." Sherlock said.

Mycroft sat down in Sherlock's chair. He knew this would annoy his little brother. "But you haven't even heard what I am going to say."

"Fine. What do you want?" Sherlock asked.

"I have a job for you. An interesting one." Mycroft said.

"Oh not one more of your M16 cases!" Sherlock said.

"No," Mycroft smiled, "it is not. If it were, that would be so much better."

Sherlock rolled around the couch to face his brother but still didn't sit up.

"I knew I'd catch your interest." Mycroft said. "England has a new serial killer. He has killed 3 women; the 3rd just found this morning."

Sherlock looked through the folder Mycroft had given him. Christina Curry was the first victim; found buried alive in Manchester. She had been missing for 2 weeks when authorities stumbled upon a fresh grave in the woods. At first her boyfriend was suspected but the body of Celeste Waters was found in Leeds the same way. Celeste Waters missing for 1 week. Third body was Amy Duncan. Never declared missing; gone for only 4 days.

"Taking off was something Amy did." said Derrick, Amy's ex-boyfriend in an interview with the consulting detective. "With a history of drugs, Amy dropped our 2 year old daughter off and just said she had had enough and then just left."

"And you didn't bother stopping her?" Sherlock inquired.

"Why? Natalie is so much better off. I'm glad Amy is dead." Derrick replied.

Sherlock thought back to a time when he too had a "history of drugs". He had always been different, a higher IQ than the rest of his class. The kids had been mean to him growing up just because he was smarter than him. So he would show them up, point out their flaws to get even. Then college came and Sherlock tried for a better life. The use of marijuana dulled his senses but it made him friends. They were the wrong kind of friends he knew, but he counted on them to bring him what he needed. One day though, the marijuana wasn't enough and one of his "friends" brought him some great stuff called cocaine. Then cocaine lead to heroine which led to overdose after overdose until he was kicked out of college due to bad grades and not showing up to classes. One day he awoke up in a hospital bed but not a hospital. His arms were handcuffed to the rails and his brother was standing in the doorway.

"Hello brother mine." Mycroft solemnly greeted.

"Mycroft, what the hell?!" Sherlock pulled on the handcuffs but it was of no use.

"Mother and father send their wishes brother." Mycroft said.

"Yes, I am sure they do. You have never told them about my use so I doubt they know where I am." Sherlock said.

"Oh but they do now Sherlock." Mycroft said. "And if you do not agree to a rehab treatment of my choosing, they will be here tomorrow."

Sherlock thought back to that time in his life. If only Amy Duncan had that chance in her life before she was found murdered.

Body number 4 came five days later. Only thing that drew all of the victims together? They all had long brown hair.

"Tabitha Jones." said Lestrade when Sherlock and John arrived. They were in Brentwood, over 200 miles away from the first murder.

"Why so far away?" asked John.

"Anderson thinks this is a copycat." Lestrade said.

"Anderson is a moron." Sherlock said. "With the exception of the fact that no valid information has been leaked to a single newspaper, every detail is the same down to the same wood made for the coffin. We are dealing with the same killer."

After the four murders Lestrade was forced with no choice but to give an exclusive news conference.

"District Inspector Lestrade, what can you tell us about this new serial killer? How many bodies has there been and what is the motive?" The reporters were full of questions in the news conference.

"We believe that our killer is a male with the possibility of just recently, loosing someone very close to him. All of the victims have been white female with long brown hair." Lestrade answered.

"Is it true that all women have been found buried alive?"

"Yes," answered Sergent Donovan, "all appeared to have been buried alive. Any more questions before we close?"

"Sir, is it true that Sherlock Holmes is on this case?"

"Yes, that is true. Sherlock Holmes is working this case." answered Lestrade. He and Donovan stood up and left the news conference. The reporters still yelled out more questions but there were no more answers to give.

Two weeks later after the news conference came the 5th murder.

"Have Molly do an autopsy." Sherlock told Lestrade. This was the first victim found in the London area. Sherlock had noted something different with this body that hadn't been on the others.


	3. Autopsy

Hello! Thank you Guest for your review. Very kind words :o). Also, thanks to my new Fav/Follower for reading along.

Hope you like chapter 3!

Note: I am American and I know that we say stuff completely different than they do in England. So I did have to do a search for how "gas station" is said - Petrol (I hope I got that right) and did some medical searches too. When it comes to anything medical - the closest thing I know is put a band aid over a scrape.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own BBC's Sherlock.

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Molly looked at the body on the table. She had heard about the murders but had not held the opportunity to examine any of the bodies. She wished she still hadn't. The young woman, name still unknown, died with a horrific look on her face. Molly guessed she was only 25 years old. The handmade coffin was also brought in as per Sherlock's order. Molly felt chills run through her as she lightly ran her fingers over the scratch marks.

"Any new discoveries?" Sherlocks's deep baritone voice made Molly jump.

"Oh Sherlock!" Molly held her hand up to her heart. "Sorry, I was just getting started. I can't believe someone could burry another person alive."

Molly followed Sherlock over to the body as he pointed at the woman's shoulder. "I noticed a small needle point mark on her shoulder. I do not believe this was discovered on any of the other bodies." Sherlock said.

Molly pulled out a magnify glass and found the tiny mark. "I will run a toxicology report to test for any unusual substances."

"Thank you." Sherlock said. He stepped closer to Molly with great concern, "Molly, something that all of these women had in common was their long brown hair."

Molly could hear the real concern in Sherlock's voice. She too had long brown hair. "Do you think that I should cut my hair?"

"That should not be necessary but I do ask that you pay close attention to all of your surroundings. Never walk home by yourself or at night and always keep all of your doors and windows locked." Sherlock said.

Molly nodded. It was a little frightening knowing there was a serial killer out there looking for girls with long brown hair. Molly still kept the thought of dying her hair or getting it cut as an option.

Suddenly a man burst through the morgue doors. He stopped when he saw Molly and Sherlock and the body laying on the table. Molly quickly covered the body up with the sheet.

Sherlock studied the man's look. Middle aged, balding and slightly overweight. The man stepped closer to them.

"Is...is that my Jennifer? My poor, poor Jennifer?" The man wept.

Molly looked at Sherlock and then back to the man. "Um sir, my name is Molly Hooper. If you just give me a moment, I can arrange the body for you to identify."

"No, no - I want to see her now!" the man yelled. His attention was then caught by sight of the handmade coffin still covered in dirt. "Oh God! Was she, was...did that killer take her from me?"

Molly held the man's hand in a comforting manner. "Sir, if you would allow me to, I will show you the body over here. But I must warn you, this will not be easy for you."

The man identified the young woman as his daughter Jennifer Mason, 23 years old. Mr. Mason then starred down Sherlock. "You. You are Sherlock Holmes. I have read in the papers how you are supposed to be some kind of genius detective. Why haven't you caught this monster yet?!"

Sherlock looked away in shame. The man was right; he should have already stopped the monster that was haunting all of England.

"Jennifer had just begun a career as a triage nurse here at St. Barts. She was only on her second day when she disappeared. " Mr. Mason said.

"She worked here?" Sherlock asked. This was good Sherlock thought, though he did not share this inner excitement with Mr. Mason. He would have easy access to St. Bart's video surveillance. Was it possible that the killer walked the halls of the hospital and that he could have passed by Sherlock?

After calming the father down and sending him back to his surviving family, Molly began the autopsy. With Mr. Mason on her mind, she would not let him down by overlooking any crucial evidence. In the meantime, Sherlock visited the security surveillance room.

"I need to see video from two weeks ago." Sherlock demanded.

Sherlock searched hours of video and found nothing. Going back a 3rd week, Sherlock saw Jennifer Mason running with other medical nurses and doctors as they pushed a gurney into an operating room. Fast forwarding through that day, Sherlock stopped when he saw Jennifer again, this time speaking with a doctor. She had dropped a stack of papers and he was helping her pick them up. The A&E was busy with nurses and doctors running around after a bus crash came in. Sherlock took this behavior as strange for the doctor stopping to help pick up papers when he should have been concentrating on saving the man's life that another team of doctors were doing just a few feet away.

Going through more video, Sherlock never saw the doctor again but did see Jennifer going home at the end of her shift. Sherlock would have to get surveillance video from Mycroft and go from there.

Back in the morgue, Molly was just finishing up the paper work from the autopsy when Sherlock returned. The complete lab results weren't in yet but Molly suspected an anesthetic was used.

"Sherlock, do you think the killer could be a doctor? I found traces of Thiopental in Jennifer Mason's body." Molly said.

"I saw Jennifer Mason speaking with a doctor on video surveillance. There is still more surveillance that John and I need to go over tonight." Sherlock said. Before leaving the morgue Sherlock turned to Molly, "None of the murders have taken place in the same area and for all we know, the killer could be long gone. But I do believe he was here at this hospital."

For the second time in her shift that day, Molly felt a chill run through her. At the end of her shift Molly had good mind in calling for a cab instead of waiting for one.

3 weeks ago:

He tried living his life like normal. Shortly after his wife had passed away, Norman Snyder returned to work. But it was insane seeing Loretta everywhere he went. There she was with her long brown hair - pumping petro at the petrol station, shopping for groceries and today, dropping those stacks of papers. Loretta always was clumsy like that. He smiled at her ghost as he stopped to help. He wanted his wife to come back to him!

Jennifer Mason thanked the doctor who had helped her. He was so cute she thought and probably taken. She saw the wedding ring on his left hand finger. Yep, married. But at least he helped her. Jennifer thought nursing was going to be so easy - so challenging and that she could help others. But all she had become in her first two days at St. Bart's was a screw up. Jennifer could hear her father's strong words in her ears "You can achieve anything in life". Jennifer lifted her head up high with determination as she helped a man walking into the A&E holding his forehead that was bleeding.

Norman Snyder continued to quietly walk around St. Bart's hospital, sneaking around as he picked up vials of anesthetic that doctors or nurses had turned their back on.


	4. Planning Ahead

Thank you DD for your review. I'm so glad that you find this creepy (that means I'm writing this right) :o)

This chapter may be a little shorter than others but we get a glimpse into John & Mary's married life. Next chapter (hopefully I will get it up tonight or tomorrow (days are getting crazy)) will be more on the victims. That chapter will definitely stick to the creepiness.

** Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Sherlock.**

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John and Mary were having a rarity. Dinner with candle light, champagne and not a fussy baby who's first tooth is coming in or a certain consulting detective.

"Happy Anniversary." John clicked his glass with Mary's.

Mary giggled, "Happy Anniversary love."

"Tell me, Mrs. Watson, would you like dinner first or dessert?" John asked.

"How about you give me a little taste of desert?" Mary teased as she leaned over and kissed her husband.

Dinner would be skipped as they continued their kiss. **buzz** **buzz**

They broke away from their kiss as John rolled his eyes. "Don't answer it." Mary said.

"Answer what? Must be a wrong number." John said as he placed his cell phone under a couch pillow.

"Good." Mary laughed as she continued to kiss her husband again.

Faintly they could hear **buzz** *buzz** ...**buzz** **buzz** then silence.

Ring...Ring...Ring...

"Ok, now he's calling the house." Mary crossed her arms.

"Hold on." John said as he went to the phone hanging in the kitchen.

"No." John said to Sherlock on the other line.

"No? John, this is very important." Sherlock said.

"Yeah, well we are celebrating our wedding anniversary." John said.

"Wedding anniversary? But that's another two months away." Sherlock scoffed.

"Yes, but we figured if we celebrated early we'd get away with it." John said.

"Celebrate in 2 months. Now come to Baker St. at once." Sherlock said and then ended the call.

John pushed end on the cordless and placed it back on the receiver. "Sorry hun."

Mary waved him off. "We tried." she said.

"Love you." John said as he walked out the door.

"Love you too." Mary said back as the door closed.

When John arrived at Baker St. he found Mycroft to be there instead.

"Evening Mycroft." John greeted.

"Good evening John. How is Mrs. Watson?" Mycroft asked.

"Good -she's good." John said. John watched as a man sat at a computer, clicking through video. "Sherlock around?"

"I am afraid you have just missed him. But he asks for you to stay until he has returned." Mycroft said.

John nodded. He walked over to where the man was working on the computer. "Is that Alvin street? That's just three streets away from Mary and I."

"Jennifer Mason, 4th victim of our serial killer. Her place of residence was 2541 Alvin street." Mycroft answered. "Sherlock is there now, looking for traces of her abduction."

When John looked closer at the surveillance, he could see Sherlock there in front of Jennifer Mason's flat.

_"Sherlock, have a look around the bush area." Mycroft said over his phone._

_Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I have already checked there Mycroft."_

_"Check again." Mycroft insisted._

Sherlock went back to the thick bushes. He dug his arms through, checking for any clues. Then he heard something drop to the ground underneath. Leaning over, Sherlock picked up a shiny gold heart necklace.

Returning to Baker St., Sherlock pinned the necklace to the wall full pictures of the victims and other evidence.

"I trust Mary was not too upset that I dragged you away?" Sherlock asked as he and John starred back at the wall.

"She'll get over it." John said.

Sherlock folded his hands together in front of his face and closed his eyes. "He's taking more time with the victims." Sherlock stated about the killer.

"What? How do you know that?" John asked.

"Well obviously the time difference has gotten longer before a body is found and," Sherlock grabbed a copy of Molly's unofficial report, "he's drugging them now where before he would just knock them out with chloroform until the victim would just wake up screaming in a buried grave."

"Ahem..." Mycroft cleared his throat.

"Sorry." Sherlock turned around and apologized for his insincerity. "He wants to keep them around longer...Mycroft have you identified the killer yet in any of the surveillance?"

"I am afraid we simply cannot get a good form, brother."


	5. Victim

I am so sorry for not updating the way I have been (which I think was about every other day). Last week when I posted ch. 4, I was at the library. I haven't been there in a while and thought while there, I would check out a book. I absolutely loved the Mortal Instruments series and thought I would start reading the prequel: The Infernal Devices (Clockwork Angel). Forgot how the MI was hard to put down. Yeah, so was this one. Already on Clockwork Prince. Good books are great to read, but when they are really great - they make you forget your family, friends and stories that you are writing.

I'll do my best not to let Clockwork Prince be too distracting where it's another week before I post chapter 6. This chapter is super creepy and it goes back to the first killing. So remember, chapter 5 here is a pre-chapter 1. Maybe don't read with your lights off...:o)

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Sherlock.

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"What do you want me to do?" Derick argued with his girlfriend. Christina wanted to pull her hair out. This was the third argument they had on the subject.

"I want you to fix the problem!" Christina yelled back. The problem was over a friend of Derick's who was constantly meddling with their lives and borrowing money. It was enough that Christina wanted Derick to kick the friend out of their lives. But Derick's silence was everything to Christina. He would not stand up to Patrick Lane and tell him no.

"Whatever. I'm going for my run." Christina opened the door and watched as the rain poured down.

"But it's raining" Derick said. Christina didn't say a word, only slamming the door in frustration.

Rain or shine, Christina Curry took her run. There had been so much frustration in her life that this was the only way she felt she could cool some of it down. She was gone for about ten minutes when she passed by another runner. The man was resting against a pole, panting.

"You all right?" Christina asked. She was afraid the man was having a heart attack.

The man waved his arm up signaling he was fine as she came closer. When she came too close the man grabbed her and threw a white cloth over her face. Christina struggled as he dragged her to a hidden area where his car was parked. By the time she was put in the trunk she was unconscious.

When Christina woke next she didn't know where she was. There was no light and as she quickly realized, no air. "Hel..." she found her voice to be dry. "Help!" She hit her hand off to the side of where she was. There was a limited space as she moved her legs. "Where am I? Someone please! Help me!" Christina called out but there was no one to hear.

When Christina never returned after three hours, Derick was not worried. He knew she would want to let off some steam. When he woke the next morning, Derick dialed her cell phone but there was no answer. By lunch he was calling her friends and family. No one had heard from Christina.

After missing posters and pleas through the media for Christina to return home, authorities came across Christina's body in a search in the woods. Derick Matthews found himself in custody, accused of murdering his girlfriend.

"I'm telling you, I did not kill Christina! Why the bloody hell would I kill her and then report her missing?" Derick asked.

"I don't know, you tell me." District Inspector Nathan Hughes said. There was no evidence to convict the boyfriend of Christina's murder. Which is why Hughes needed an confession. A knock on the interrogation door interrupted Hughes' questioning.

"Sir, there's been another."

Fifty-six miles away in Leeds another body had been found. Sure, the police could have said that Derick Matthews was a suspect of this murder too but there were no connections. On top of being in custody for questioning, when Matthews wasn't in custody, he was always being tailed.

A second murder, all the same details as the first, screamed the making of a new serial killer.

"What if there has been more?" Sergent Walker asked his superior, District Inspector Chris Bowmen.

"No. No way do we call this a serial killer. So far there has only been two. Let's hope there's no more." DI Bowmen said.

A week later came Amy Duncan.

"Gentlemen." Anthea graced the small office of District Inspector Bowmen. Walker and Hughes were also there. "I trust you know my boss, Mycroft Holmes. He has requested all files on Christina Curry, Celeste Waters and Amy Duncan and that you repectfully remove yourselves from this case at once."

"Excuse me?" Bowmen said. "Young miss, with all due respect, I don't have to give you anything."

"Excuse me." Anthea stepped out of the office and sent a text to Mycroft.

Mycroft smiled. He then picked up the phone and dialed the Leeds phone number for DI Bowmen's office. "Mr. Bowmen, I am removing you and your colleagues off of this case due to your incompetence. Please do not make me take more matters into my hands."

Thirty minutes later Anthea was walking out with all of the evidence.

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Sherlock looked around the wooded area where Amy Duncan was found. He scraped particles off the ground where he suspected the killer's footsteps to be.

"Idiots" Sherlock said as he pictured footprint after footprint of policemen walking around the crime scene, mucking up the evidence. Good thing that most policemen wear the same uniform type of shoe. Pin pointing the killers size 9 Danco shoe prints.

Behind Sherlock, John Watson was taking pictures of the grave sight. He walked a little further into the woods and discovered a small cabin in the distance.

John turned to Sherlock but he could tell by the consulting detective's intense thought that he would never notice the doctor to be gone.

The door squeaked as John walked inside. Cob webs hanged and even a beam from the ceiling had caved in.

"Not safe." John said to himself as he quickly decided not to walk any further. Stepping out of the cabin, John jumped when Sherlock appeared behind him.

"Do you remember the case about the Hounds of Bakersville?" Sherlock asked.

"How can I not? You drugged me into believing I was being chased by a monster." John said. He still occasionally had nightmares of that maddening experience.

"It's interesting on how one can easily be fooled by someone they think they can trust." Sherlock said. Some how, John did not like his friend's tone.

"You're not...you are not going to drug me again, are you?" John asked.

"Sorry John. It's really needed." Sherlock said. Before John knew it, Sherlock threw a cloth over John's face. It happened so quickly that John didn't even know when the cloth had appeared in his hands.

Four hours later John awoke inside the cabin. He was laying on the floor and his head felt wet. Opening his eyes, John could see a liquid dripping from the ceiling.

"Ah good, you are awake. I was a bit worried as some cases of chloroform use can kill a man" Sherlock said.

"Yeah I know." said John as he sat up. He felt a slight dizziness. "It's why they no longer use it as an anesthetic. I cannot believe you drugged me again Sherlock Holmes!"

"While we know he has been using chloroform to render his victims unconscious, I needed to see the effects. How long would one "sleep" and other inquires." Sherlock said.

Still sitting on the floor, John looked around the cabin. Now that he was inside further, he could see more of the natural damage that had come along without a normal up keep. "Why are we inside? I'm afraid this is all going to cave in on us."

"I dragged you in as it was beginning to rain. I see your snoring has not ceased. I discussed it over with Mary and we both agree that you should check into that." Sherlock said.

"Oh thanks, it is nice to know that you care enough for me to bring me out of the rain so that I don't catch a cold - after you have drugged me - and that while I was unconscious my best friend and nurse wife think they know better than the actual person that is the doctor. I do not snore! And please don't tell Mary that I was rude about her." John said.

"I promise." Sherlock smiled as he helped John off the floor.

The flowers bloomed red and yellow in the back of his yard. When Norman had first woken up next to his dead wife, he buried her in the back yard. He would keep her close; she would keep haunting him.


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